


A Dying Light And A Saving Grace

by TeaLovingTooru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Bad Parenting, Chest Binder, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Epic Friendship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'm Sorry, Insecure Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime Is So Done, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Boyfriend, Iwaizumi Only Wants What's Best For Oikawa, M/M, Only Oikawa's Brother and Iwaizumi Support Him, Or. He will be., Pansexual Iwaizumi Hajime, Poor Oikawa Tooru, Supportive Iwaizumi Hajime, Trans Oikawa Tooru, Transphobia, Understanding Iwaizumi Hajime, When they get together.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10852956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaLovingTooru/pseuds/TeaLovingTooru
Summary: When Oikawa Tooru- well, at the time: Oikawa Tokiri- was seven. He couldn't imagine how his life would change. He didn't know that he would be so happy with himself when he was twenty-four, living an amazing life with an even more amazing husband and being who he knew he'd always been on the inside. But, before we get to that, we have to get through the hard stuff. And oh... it was hard.(I always get the tags done before I finish the fic and stuff so look forward to those later on.)





	A Dying Light And A Saving Grace

When Oikawa Tooru- well, at the time: Oikawa Tokiri- was seven. He couldn't imagine how his life would change. He didn't know that he would be so happy with himself when he was twenty-four, living an amazing life with an even more amazing husband and being who he knew he'd always been on the inside. But, before we get to that, we have to get through the hard stuff. And oh... it was hard.

_________________

"Tokiri-chan! Be careful on the swings, honey!" Her mother called, giving a warm smile before turning her attention back to her phone, surely doing business of some sort. 

Tokiri felt her lip curl up, pouting as she realized that her mother wasn't actually paying attention. How rude! This is supposed to be their day! And so Tokiri sulked, hopping off the swing and adjusting her skirt as her small legs carried her towards the slides. She had planned to simply hide inside on of them, wondering if her mother even noticed if she were gone. Probably not. She never even noticed her son sneaking out of his window to go and see his girlfriend, which is saying something because he does it a lot.

Tokiri huffed again, knowing that her face was probably starting to get pink from frustration. Her mother wasn't very good at being a mother. Just last week, she was two hours late picking up her children from school, though Toshino, Tokiri's brother, was fine because he was allowed to walk. 

Oikawa Toshino is Tokiri's idol, she looks up to him like he is a God. Hell, he sure acted like he was. He was a touch narcissistic, not afraid to flaunt the pretty face he'd been given. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly where Tokiri got her personality. Whenever people would call her cute, she would simply smile and skip away, her skirt swishing around as she did so. 

However, Tokiri didn't like skirts. She liked shorts. Not the ones that were boldly coloured with white srips for bordering, not the ones that had girly patterns on them. Nah. She liked basketball shorts, the kind that are loose and go past the knees normally. She liked the way you could move in them, quick and easy.

You know what you can't move quick and easily in? Skirts. And dresses. And dress flats that make her toes hurt. She doesn't like wearing things that she has to be conscious of. She doesn't like having to hold her skirt down when she's on the swings or going down the slide. She doesn't like not being able to run. She likes feeling free, wind hitting her cheeks when she rode bikes with her brother, because she is his wingman. Well. Winggirl...? Eh. She'll work on that.

Anyways. Back to Tokiri's pouting. 

She stomped her way up the stairs, angry tears welling up in her eyes as she climbed into the slide, using her feet to anchor herself on the inside. It was peaceful there, quieter and away from the other girls that her mother wished she'd talk to. But she didn't want to. 

She preferred having out with her brothers friends, joining them in their weekly gaming sessions and surprising them with her skills. It was comfortable to hang out with boys, despite their occasional crude comments that she didn't understand yet. At school, though, Tokiri didn't have any make friends. They were mean to her, pulling her pigtails and pushing her down whenever she asked if she could play kickball with them.

All she wants is someone who pays attention to her and doesn't discriminate just because of her gender. So what? She was born a girl. That doesn't mean she has to like the color pink and play with dolls, if she chooses to play in the grass and get sweaty while running after his brother, she shall. She doesn't feel like a girl, or what a girl is seen to be like.

She doesn't dislike boys and accuse them of having cooties. She doesn't play dolls and beg for anything pink she sees like she's seen her friend, Emi-chan, do on countless occasion. She's always been told by teachers and her brother that it's ok to be different and not particularly like feminine things, though not hating them either. Yes, she enjoyed looking pretty and looking at cute boys, but she also liked wearing jerseys and pants with holes on them.

It's not necessarily what everyone thinks, y'know, that being pretty is girly and that liking baggy clothes is masculine. Some people would stand up for a boys right to wear pink and for a girl to want baseball cards, but not the Oikawa's. Tokiri's family believed one thing specifically: if you have the parts of a girl, act like it. 

But what does that mean? What do girls share in common? And I mean all girls. Oh. That's right. Body parts. Tokiri is not yet aware of this fact, as she is still too young to know the differences between the parts and why they're 'important'. She had yet to figure out sets her apart, what makes her different from the other girls in her class. She had yet to find someone who will help her figure it out. Well that's about to change.

Imagine a young girl, hair laying in two nice braids against her shoulders, a pair of white tights under her mint coloured dress, tucked into a green, closed top slide, both feet and back pushed against the sides so as not to slip, pushing up her glasses carefully with a chubby finger.

And on another part of the park, imagine a young boy. Spiked hair and very tan, probably due to his tendency to spend as much time as possible outside. A white A-shirt and a pair of dark blue basketball shorts, showing off his boyish muscle, a scattering of bandaids and bruises on the otherwise smooth skin.

Now imagine the young boy climbing up the steps of a metal structure, shaking mulch out of his hair from his latest tumble, sticking from the use of gel. Imagine him continuing up the play structure, looking down a dark tunnel before pouting his feet in, getting ready to slide down. And now imagine the young boy pushing himself off of the grab bars, feet first towards the end of the slide. Now imagine the screech that comes from someone else when he goes feet first into their side. He let out a quiet curse, one he'd heard the older boys using when he felt a dainty hand fall into his calf, clasping as if their life depended on it.

Now, seriously, imagine the two tumbling out the end of the slide, falling into a puddle of limbs and 'ouch'. After a second of composing, the spiked kid stood up, brushing more mulch off of himself, unknowing of the large brown eyes staring him down. Well, he was unaware for about two seconds before he heard a whine.

"Aren't you going to help me up? After all, you were the one who pushed me down the slide!"

"What? Why should I? You were the one just sitting in there!"

"Still! Mommy said it's only polite for boys to help girls in need!"

"Dude. Why should I treat someone differently just because they're a girl? If I pushed another boy, I wouldn't help him up, either." He huffed, rolling his eyes at the display before him. However, he couldn't help the smile on his lips when he saw the girl before him dramatically put a hand on her chest, saying how 'rude' he was. "If I help you up, will you shut up?"

"You're kind of mean, aren't you?"

"And you're kinda annoying but you don't hear me sayin' anything."

Hmm. This boy is treating Tokiri how his brothers friends treat him... y'know. Equally. 

"You know, we should be friends!"

"I don't even know your name."

"I'm Oikawa Tokiri! Now! Be my friend!"

"Well, not that it matters but I'm Hajime. Iwaizumi Hajime." Said boy held out his hand, whether for a shake or to help Tokiri up, she didn't know. But she did know that those hands were warm and oddly comforting, a silent promise to meet the next day was made when Tokiri was dragged away by her mother, who had finally noticed her disappearance and decided it was time to go home.

Tokiri took one last look at the boy who she'd met, not yet knowing that this boy was her saving grace.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really hope you guys liked this and will continue to read it as it is updated! Also, I will be using 'she' and the like pronouns for Tooru until he finally comes to terms and realizes he is more comfortable with the more masculine pronouns and the name 'Tooru'! 
> 
> See you guys next time! <3333


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